This eerie poem is for the month of October. With pagan rituals forming the basis of Halloween and scary stories fueling children's fears of ghosts, this creepy poem matches the occasion.
The sun does not shine its light
On every crevice in sight.
That shadow between common and surreal
Or secret abode beneath the solemn hill.
Through the halls of a structure so grand,
Down the stairs to an unknown land.
DĂ©cor outdated, moldy, and antiquated.
Creaking and cracking in wood decimated.
Blown out lights adorn
The dusty faces of those we mourn.
Gold ornamentation framing old wealth
With elaborate garments adorning themselves.
Wallpaper peeling- grungy and green,
Once youthful flowers now rotten and obscene.
The air itself smells like decades of mold
An atmosphere filled with whispers of the old.
The echo of a grumbled moan
Signals that you aren’t alone.
Scratching against the glass window
Scraping at wood so hollow.
Clatter, clatter, bang!
Throughout the mansion it rang.
Like thunder brewing in darkened clouds
Or bodies collapsing from a sound so loud.
This frightening tune beckons you over,
Drawing you in, one step closer.
The exit fades from your memory,
These worn faces are now your family.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.